


We Gotta Kill this Switch

by barelyjoyous



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fanmix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barelyjoyous/pseuds/barelyjoyous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I see your clint’s makeout song fics and raise you a katie-kate’s makeout mix fix. </p><p>Brief moments in which Clint realizes he is too damn old for this shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Gotta Kill this Switch

**Author's Note:**

> Although there is nothing more dear to my heart than the information that Clint's makeout jam is Purple Rain- The wonderful restlesslikeme make a Young Avengers Mix [Here](http://8tracks.com/erikaheather/make-a-mess-make-a-bow), and then I decided that Katie-Kate needed [her own club mix](http://8tracks.com/xxfangsup/we-gotta-kill-this-switch). And then this happened.

Clint has katie spread out underneath him, her legs over his shoulders and her thighs shaking, a hand clenched tight in his hair. Clint’s jaw is twinging and he’s so hard it _hurts_. There’s just a sliver of light shining from underneath his bedroom door, and he can hear his neighbors on the other side of the wall, but he thinks _‘you’re gorgeous’_ , thinks _‘i’m too damn old for this’_ , thinks _‘i’m not running away girly-girl,’_ and when Katie whines high in her throat Clint slides up the bed to kiss her. 

\----

“You want to take me where?” 

Clint’s trying to figure out how this coffee machine works. He misses his old one. His old one that sparked a bit when you plugged it in and sometimes made his coffee look like sludge. Clint misses drinking his coffee straight out of the clear pot. This one has too many buttons and makes the coffee right into your cup. Clint always realizes too late that his mugs are still stacked high waiting to be washed in the sink. 

“A club. You know.” Katie makes some sort of vague hand gesture that leaves Clint staring at her. 

“Come on, Hawkeye. Dancing? Music? Five dollar bottles of beer?” 

Clint cringes a little. He can’t remember the last time he stepped foot in a club, and he is _definately_ too old for this shit. 

\----

Somewhere along the line, Clint missed the memo appointing him the official handler of the Young Avengers. Somehow he also missed the memo telling him that Katie was in the Young Avengers in the first place. He had gotten so used to keeping her around, her trailing after him when he specifically told her to stay put. It’s unnerving to think that she’ll be running around New York fighting by herself, especially with the staggeringly high amount of near-death-and-or-capture experience they’ve had together. 

Clint isn’t sure about the rest of the kids, either. There’s too much magic and not enough SHIELD training. Sure, Clint’s fought alongside some pretty unique individuals, but at least when he’s out there he’s got a super spy and a super soldier to watch his ass. 

Besides, Clint’s seen what Magic can do before, has felt it, can still feel it in his bones. Sometimes he wakes up in a cold sweat feeling like he’s still under somebody else’s control. 

Magic, Clint thinks, isn’t enough to keep you safe. 

\----

Clint has logged a lot of man hours looking inconspicuous in the backs of night clubs. He knows how to perch himself on a barstool and order drinks, buy a pretty girl a drink and make casual conversation while watching his target. The part that Clint’s really good at, is following the target out the back door and taking his shot, getting in a car, and going home. 

Clint was pretty sure last time he was in a club the music wasn’t this loud. He was pretty sure last time he was in a club the occupants didn’t look like they were two bucks short of 21, either. Clint’s vaguely wondering if he could get fired just for being here, especially when he glances over and sees Tommy and Billy dancing. He’s pretty sure somebody’s hand is down somebody’s pants out there, and it only gets worse when he watches his Katie grind her hips with fucking Miss America. 

Clint thinks about bailing, the kids are pretty occupied (and fuck he’s gotta stop thinking _kids_ especially with the way he feels his heart pound when he watches Katie dance) and he’s pretty sure he could be home before the end of this song, but he remembers what Katie had said, reminds himself that she asked him to be here, and he orders another beer. 

\----

“I’m not going to make out with you Katie.” 

Clint’s standing on the edge of a roof, his eyes trained 12 stories down on Natasha. She lands a kick right in the guys stomach, and as he goes down Clint watches a jet of red fly out of Iron Man’s palm. 

“I’m older than you think, bossman.” 

Clint vaguely wonders why she’s even here. Something about field training, upping her security clearance by more experience, but all it’s really doing is making Clint grind his teeth as she leans dangerously far over the edge. 

Clint’s fingers twitch on his bow as he knocks an arrow, and just as he goes to pull his arm back, take the kill shot, he feels something fly past his ear, and looks down just in time to watch Katie’s arrow fly into the fight below. Katie already has another arrow in her hands and Clint smiles, big and bright. 

\----

Katie does this fucking filthy thing with her tongue and Clint swears his eyes roll into the back of his head. He managed to get her shirt off as soon as the door to his apartment had slammed shut, but her jeans are still clinging to her hips and she’s sitting on the edge of his bed, one hand splayed over his hip and the other wrapped around to his back. 

Clint cusses, groans, shifts his hips forward, and Katie pushes him back. She smacks his hip a little too hard, and when Clint shudders, she smacks him again, harder and Clint growls. He gets a hand in her hair and holds her head back until she’s looking up at him through her lashes, and Clint watches his cock slide out of her mouth and thinks _fuck_.

\----

“You know she’s into you.” 

“You know you’re _seventeen_.” Clint says matter-of-factly, plucking the cigarette out of Tommy’s lips and bringing it to his own. So much for sneaking out the back for fresh air, then. 

Tommy smiles and stuffs his hands in his pocket, bounces a little on his feet, and Clint runs over every disciplinary action he’s going to be faced with when he goes back to work on Monday. 

\----

Clint’s shoving his way through the crowd, his hands full of water bottles when Katie grabs his arm and turns him around. 

Her hair is stuck to her forehead and she’s ditched her jacket, the tank top underneath riding up to just under her belly button, and Clint feels his mouth go dry when his eyes scan over the expanse of skin. Clint holds the water bottles up in surrender, and watches as Katie takes them, toss them to her friends, and before he can step away, she winds her hand in his and pulls him close. 

“One dance, Hawkeye.” 

\----

Clint’s got his hands splayed out over Katie’s hips, and every time she rocks her hips back she lets out this huffy little moan and pushes her hand against the center of his chest. Clint’s been holding back, but when she runs her hand up her stomach, over her breast, and into her hair, Clint groans and snaps his hips up, presses his hand flat against her stomach and moves her where he wants her. Katie’s head drops down against his shoulder, and Clint drops a hand down to rub his thumb over her clit. 

“Right here, Katie-Kate,” Clint says lightly, surprised at how rough his voice sounds and he moves his thumb faster until she starts to shake apart in his lap. 

\----

Whatever song is playing must be popular, because as soon as Clint hears the opening bass lines he swears the dance floor gets more crowded. 

Katie has a hand on the back of his neck, and one on her own hip, and Clint doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with his hands. He’s got his head tipped down, and when she finally pulls his hands onto her hips Clint leans forward and kisses her. 

Clint feels Kate’s hand grip tight in his hair and she knocks their hips together. Clint slides his hands around to her back and holds on tight. 

\----

When Clint wakes up in the morning his bed is empty. He feels something clench in his stomach for half a second, until he hears Lucky bark and Katie yell back at him. 

“Good boy,” Clint says, tugging a shirt over his head as he walks into his kitchen. 

Katie is sitting on his counter, a mug of coffee between her hands and one of Clint’s t-shirts hanging down to her knees. 

Katie gives him a _look_ as he scratches behind Lucky’s ears. “He was hungry, so I fed him the pizza in your fridge.” 

Clint walks into the kitchen, ready to bend down to find the dog food, but he notices his old coffee maker sitting on the counter, the sleek new stark tech espresso machine nowhere to be seen, and instead he turns around and wraps an arm around Katie, steals the cup of coffee from her hands and pulls her into a kiss. 

“Morning, Hawkeye.”


End file.
